


Coffee shops and accidental shrines

by nothingbutsandanddust



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bellamy's face is hard to draw for plot reasons, Clarke is distracted by Bellamy's hotness a lot but honestly who isn't, F/M, Fluff, abby is lowkey a judgmental bitch for plot reasons, basically just 7600 words of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25943656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingbutsandanddust/pseuds/nothingbutsandanddust
Summary: Clarke hadn’t meant to create a sort of shrine for the handsome stranger that frequented her favourite coffee shop. It had been an honest mistake, one that anyone could have made really.Or, Bellamy walks into Clarke's favourite coffee shop and she decides to draw him. Things spiral out of control.
Relationships: Abby Griffin/Marcus Kane, Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 133





	Coffee shops and accidental shrines

**Author's Note:**

> This is dangerously unedited. You have been warned.

Clarke hadn’t meant to create a sort of shrine for the handsome stranger that frequented her favourite coffee shop. It had been an honest mistake, one that anyone could have made really. Besides, it wasn’t really her fault and it wasn’t  _ that  _ creepy, despite what Raven had said as she made fun of the blonde for the strange situation she had found herself in. When he had first stepped into Grounders she had been unable to snap her gaze away from him for a good minute, only managing to avert her eyes when he’d almost caught her staring. She had felt his eyes linger on her for a long moment before they, presumably, strayed back to the barista who had just called his name. Clarke had chanced another glance at him at that moment, letting her artist’s eyes appreciate the striking appearance of the stranger. He was tall, probably towering a good head or two over her, and had a mop of dark hair atop his head that he kept running his hands through, endearingly tousling the already messy curls even more. Even with only a view of the stranger’s side profile, Clarke could see hundreds of freckles splattered across his warm olive skin like mesmerizing constellations. He was one of those boys with unfairly long lashes that cast shadows against his high cheekbones in the golden light of the sunset. The small scar on the side of his lips stretched when he smiled kindly at the barista as he accepted his drink. The stranger wasn’t classically handsome, not with all those sharp angles and messy hair, but he was beautiful in a way Clarke couldn't seem to understand. Sure, he might not even be the most attractive man she had ever seen but something about him had her itching to free the pencil she had tucked behind her ear.

Because she had been so preoccupied with the excitement of feeling the inspiration to draw after a week of a creativity slump, Clarke hadn’t realized that he’d begun to turn away from the barista and hadn’t managed to avert her gaze in time. As their eyes had met, a clash of blue and brown, she had felt the heat colour her pale cheeks a humiliating shade of crimson. A small smile had tugged at the corners of his lips and he’d seemed as if he were about to head in her direction when the shrill blare of his phone had gone off loudly. Wincing, the stranger had answered the call, holding the phone close to his ear even though whoever was calling was screaming loud enough that Clarke could hear all the way from where she sat, almost as if he were trying to muffle the sound. She’d watched as all traces of that smile vanished and the man made a beeline for the door, not sparing anyone else another glance as he almost tripped over his feet in his haste to leave.

Lips parted in shock, Clarke had stared after him for all of a moment before she flipped her sketchpad open to a clean page and began her best attempt at capturing the sight of him smiling at her from across the coffee shop. Even after an hour of erasing, redrawing, and shading, she hadn’t managed to depict him in a way that she liked. Letting out a frustrated groan, she’d vowed to perfect a drawing of the stranger the next time she saw him. It wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t managed to do so the next day he’d shown up, or the day after that, or even the time after that. After the third failed attempt it had become more of a thing of pride rather than anything else. She was a successful artist damn it! She could draw the face of some random guy, no matter how hard it was. It wasn’t even that her attempts were all that bad. If anyone saw them they would easily be able to identify who it was she was drawing but something about each and every one of her attempts felt off. They seemed to lack something but she couldn't quite figure out what. 

It was because he never stayed long enough for her to properly study him, Clarke had justified to herself, three weeks after that first day she’d seen him. Every Friday since then he had shown up at like clockwork at dusk, always ordering the same drink then turning to leave as abruptly as he’d come, his ear pressed against his phone as the same person yelled out of the speaker. If he would only linger for just a minute longer, face her for just a few seconds, she was sure she would be able to get it right. And she had to get it right. It was already driving her insane that she hadn’t managed it just yet. Clarke had always been irrationally competitive and this was a challenge she did not intend on failing. 

That was why, a month from the day the handsome stranger had first stepped foot in Grounders, Clarke’s sketchbook was filled with tens of pages covered in various drawings of the same man, interrupted only by other sketches of rough ideas she had for some commissions. Soon, she would have to get herself a new one if this continued, seeing as there were only ten clean pages left. 

Book flipped open to one of said pages, Clarke tapped her pencil impatiently against her knee. It was the first time the stranger didn’t show up on time and she was starting to think he just wasn’t going to come today at all.  _ Maybe he’s sick _ , she thought to herself as she glanced at the time on her phone once more,  _ or he’s out of town for work. It’s probably nothing serious _ . Clarke didn’t even know why she was worried about him, she had never even spoken to him for God’s sake! She was being completely ridiculous. 

Huffing out a resigned breath, she flipped to the page of her most recent commission outline. Cage Wallace was a sleazy bastard that jumped at any chance to make an inappropriate comment or lean into her personal space under the guise of being friendly. Being around him made her skin crawl but he had offered her a disgusting and obscenely large amount of money to paint a mural of himself in his home and the part of her that had survived from her days as a stereotypical starving artist had been unable to turn down that kind of money, no matter how disgusting Wallace was. Or how ridiculously narcissistic his idea for the mural was. She was to design an image inspired by da Vinci’s  _ The Last Supper _ with Cage at the center of the table where Jesus was in the original, flanked on either side by some of history’s most famous innovators, scientists, and philosophers. It had been a great effort for her to keep from scoffing when he’d first told her what he was asking of her. Apparently, he fancied himself a great thinker, the best of the best, when in reality he was just a greedy, corrupt, evil businessman with a god complex. But money was money and Clarke had managed to hold her tongue. Hopefully, he would give her space to do her work and she wouldn’t have to interact with him much more. It was unlikely but it was the only thing that kept her working on the sketch at the moment. 

When they were still in university together, Raven had once told Clarke that it was scary how deeply the blonde could lose herself in her art. Even when working on pieces she wasn’t particularly fond of, the world seemed to melt away for her as soon as she began creating. So it was no wonder she didn’t notice him until he was standing right in front of her, clearing his throat to get her attention. 

Startled, Clarke jumped in her seat, her sketchbook slipping off her lap and falling shut on the floor with a loud thud. Quickly, she bent to pick it up, but large hands beat her to it and she looked up to find the very stranger that had occupied her thoughts too much in the past month staring down at her with a sheepish smile. He was holding out the sketchbook to her carefully and she took it from him with a grateful smile. A beat of silence passed between them as the stranger rubbed the back of his neck anxiously and she merely observed him with confused eyes. 

Finally, he opened his mouth and spoke, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He flashed her an apologetic smile but she waved his apology off.

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t scare me, I just didn’t notice you.” She smiled, then blushed as she realized the implications of her words.

“Ouch.” He made a face but didn’t actually seem offended and even laughed at her mumbled apology. “It’s alright, Princess, you seemed pretty engrossed in your work. I get it.”

Raising her brows at him, she asked, “Princess?”

It was his turn to blush, although the red dusting his cheeks was less prominent against his darker complexion. “Oh, um, yeah, it’s just the first time I saw you, uh, my first thought was that you looked exactly like how I imagined the princesses in the fairytales I used to read to my little sister. And because I don’t know your name I’ve just been referring to you as ‘Princess’ in my head for the past month.” A strange warmth flooded through her at his words, softening her smile and eyes. His obvious embarrassment at the admission was kind of adorable. 

“Well, that’s certainly more creative than how I’ve been thinking of you. ‘Handsome stranger’ isn’t quite as nice as ‘Princess’.”

All traces of embarrassment vanishing, he smirked. “So you think I’m handsome, yeah?” 

Refusing to let herself feel self-conscious Clarke merely retorted, “And you think I look like a princess, so you don’t have much of a leg to stand on here.”

“Touche,” he snorted, then gestured to the empty seat across from her. Another beat of silence passed between them but this one wasn’t as awkward as the first, not with them smiling at each other. 

“So… do you wanna sit?” Clarke finally asked, gesturing at the empty seat across from her. Immediately, his eyes turned apologetic and she could already hear the refusal before it came. 

“I really would like to but I’m already running late. Next time though?” The hopeful expression on his face quashed all of the hurt feelings she had at him leaving and she nodded at him. 

Just as he turned to leave, Clarke shouted after him, “Wait!” Freezing, he glanced at her over his shoulder, a confused look on his face. She bit her lip. “My name’s Clarke. Just wanted to tell you in case you wanted to stop calling me ‘Princess’ in your head.” 

A smirk curled his lips. “Bellamy. Nice to meet you… Princess.” And with that, he turned back towards the doors and walked out of the cafe. 

Clarke watched him leave, a goofy grin on her face before she turned back to her sketchpad. She quickly flipped back to a new page and began to sketch the outline of Bellamy’s face. She could finish Wallace’s sketch when she got home. 

* * *

The door of the coffee shop fell shut behind him but the smile didn’t fall from his lips just as the image of Clarke smiling didn’t dim in his mind. It lingered as he walked down the familiar blocks to Marcus Kane’s apartment building. The older man had invited him for dinner and Bellamy couldn't exactly say no, not when Kane was the one who recommended him for the professor position at Ark U. To get this would be a dream come true for Bellamy, something he had never even dared to dream of. It still felt unattainable, despite his qualifications for it and Kane’s assurances that there could be no one better for the job. 

Despite the fact that this was his third visit this month to the building, the doorman still shot him a wary look as he stepped through the grand doors. Sighing, Bellamy tried not to let it get to him, not to pick a fight or snap at the man. Besides, it was leagues better than the first time he had come. At least this time there was no yelling or unnecessary grabbing. The distrust was to be expected, he told himself, even if he wished it wasn’t. After all, what was a guy like him doing in a place like this? It was a question he knew went through the heads of everyone here and even he heard the whispers that he didn’t belong here from his own mind. He had grown up in the world opposite to this one. A world of small, cramped spaces and worn down furniture whereas this one was nothing but wide rooms filled with lavish objects. Just one of the enormous diamonds encrusted in the ostentatious necklace of the woman beside him would have been enough to pay for his childhood home’s rent several times over and then some. Now here was someone who belonged in such a place. 

But Bellamy pushed all those thoughts away as he stepped out of the elevator and into the Kanes’ penthouse. He didn’t need to belong here nor did he wish to, all he wanted was a good job that paid enough for him to live comfortably. If all went well, this teaching position could very well be that job. 

As always, he lingered by the elevator, waiting for Kane to come find him. Even though Kane had laughed the first time he’d seen him do this and assured him he was welcome to come find them Bellamy couldn't bring himself to feel comfortable wandering around unaccompanied in someone’s home. Since he’d been alerted that a visitor was coming up, it didn’t take long for Kane to appear, a bright smile on the older man’s face. His kind brown eyes were crinkled at the sides as he approached Bellamy and pulled him into a swift hug. That was another thing the younger man wasn’t sure he could get used to, this unabashed warmth from someone he had used to think of as cold and stern. It turned out he only appeared so when he was interacting with Charles Pike, Bellamy’s current asshole of a boss, because the two men had a tense history. Not that Bellamy could blame Kane, seeing as he wasn’t Pike’s biggest fan either. 

“Welcome, my boy,” Kane greeted, pulling back but keeping his hands on his guest’s shoulders as he assessed him in that way he always did, almost as if he would have changed in the short time since they’d last seen each other. “I must say, dinner isn’t quite ready just yet. I thought we’d have more time before you arrived but you’re as punctual as ever.” 

Bellamy grinned, he always seemed to be too early. “Just trying to make a good impression, sir.”

Turning, Kane motioned for him to follow and they walked together towards the older man’s office. “Nonsense, you don’t have to worry about that.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You’ve already made an impeccable impression on me but if you’re talking about meeting my wife and step-daughter tonight, you don’t need to worry about that at all. You’re an impressive young man.” Bellamy, as bad as taking compliments as ever, flushed but flashed Kane a grateful look. The older man plowed on as he pushed open the door to his office, “But unfortunately it will only be dinner with Abby tonight since her daughter couldn't make it. She had to stay late to finish a commission for a client.” 

“Your step-daughter’s an artist?” Bellamy asked, brows high on his forehead. Of all the professions he pictured for those who came from money, artists had never been one of them. Although he supposed it made sense since she wouldn’t have to worry about financial struggles until her work became popular. He suppressed the resentment that rose instinctively at that thought. After all, this girl hadn’t done anything wrong and he didn’t even know her.

“Oh, yes,” Kane responded, a proud expression on his face. “She’s extremely talented. Hardworking too. Worked her way through college and started a successful gallery all on her own.” If Kane’s boasts were anything to go buy, this step-daughter of his was an impressive woman. Any lingering resentment he had for this faceless girl turned to shock and begrudging respect. He knew first hand how difficult it was to work your way through university, nevermind successfully breaking into the arts. 

“She sounds like an interesting woman,” Bellamy commented politely and Kane’s proud grin widened impossibly. 

“Oh, she is. I’m confident the two of you would get along spectacularly if you met.” If Bellamy didn’t know any better, he would’ve sworn a mischievous glint had appeared in the man’s dark eyes. “Which will hopefully be as soon as next week, when we all go out to that celebratory dinner.”

Brows furrowing in confusion, Bellamy thought back to their recent conversations but could not recall any mention of this dinner or even anything worth having a celebratory dinner over. 

“What exactly are we celebrating?” He questioned. 

With a start, he realized Kane’s proud grin was now directed at him when the older man answered, “You got the job, son. I think that’s worth celebrating.” 

It took a second for the words to register. 

Then, “ _ Holy shit! _ ” An elated smile broke out across his face and he couldn't help the laugh that burst from his chest. “I got the job?”

Kane nodded. “You’re going to be Ark U’s new Classics professor. I mean, the school wanted to inform you themselves and you’ll be getting an email from them soon but I couldn't help but tell you myself. I’m so proud of you, Bellamy.” 

“I-” For a moment, he was speechless, unable to put into words just how he was feeling. “Thank you, Kane. You have no idea how much I appreciate how you’ve helped me.” The man only nodded in thanks. 

God, he’d gotten  _ the  _ job. The job that would allow him to quit working for Pike, the job that would give him both better hours and better pay, the job that would allow him to provide for himself and his sister if she were to need it. The job he would actually enjoy doing. There were a million ways his life was about to change for the better and a small part of him realized that he wouldn’t have to constantly be on the phone with Pike, constantly be yelled at to do  _ this  _ or  _ that _ as he brought his boss coffee from Grounders. He could go and simply sit and enjoy being there and if that meant being able to spend some time with Clarke Griffin, well, Bellamy definitely wasn’t about to complain about that. 

* * *

To say that walking into Grounders a week later and finding Bellamy sitting in her usual spot was a shock would be an understatement. Since he had first stepped foot into the coffee shop he had never, ever arrived before her but this time he was the one with a mug already set in front of him as he sat hunched over his laptop, brows scrunched in focus. Clarke stared at him for a second longer than was strictly normal before she shook her head and headed toward the counter, a small smile playing about her lips. 

“The usual?” The barista asked, a knowing glint in her eyes that made heat creep into Clarke’s cheeks. Was she really so obvious?

At her responding nod, the barista turned around and began preparing the same drink Clarke had been getting ever since she started attending Ark U all those years ago. While she waited for her drink to be prepared, she rocked back onto her heels impatiently. For some inexplicable reason, it had been even more difficult to keep her thoughts from straying to a certain curly-haired stranger since they had exchanged actual words. There was an itch to get to know him better that she needed to scratch. 

When the barista finally handed her the drink (accompanied by a knowing smirk), Clarke thanked her then made her way over to where Bellamy sat. He seemed to be one of those people with intense single-minded focus, giving everything they have to whatever they were doing at the moment, so he didn’t notice her even when she was standing right above him. 

“So, I’m late once and you steal my spot? Alright, I see how it is.”

Startled, Bellamy jumps in his seat and barely manages to save his laptop before it slips off his lap. 

“Didn’t realize we were back in grade school, Princess. No assigned seats, as far as I know.” He smirked, but his eyes twinkled, giving away that he was happy to see her. The thought filled Clarke with a strange warmth. “But since I’m nothing if not fair, I’ll let you sit in the seat across.”

Snorting, she slid into the chair across from him, placing her mug on the small table that separated them and dropping her bag onto the floor. 

“How generous of you, Blake.” Bellamy closed his computer and slipped it back into his bag before turning his eyes back to her, the grin still curling his lips. Clarke tried not to notice the way his eyes crinkled endearingly when he smiled so wide. When he didn’t stop studying her she swallowed heavily and demanded, “What?”

If it weren’t for the way his ears pinked slightly she wouldn’t have noticed his slight embarrassment before he smoothly replied, “Just wondering how you know my last name since I don’t quite remember telling you last week.” 

It was Clarke’s turn to blush, which was, unfortunately, more noticeable against her fairer complexion. “My friend Raven’s some sort of computer genius and decided she had to, and I quote, ‘get some intel on this Bellamy guy to make sure your potential coffee friend doesn’t murder you’. Turns out there aren’t that many Bellamy’s in Arkadia. Although she did want me to tell you that you made her life harder with your “unnatural” and “concerning” lack of a social media presence.” Although she tried to play it off smoothly, her pink cheeks betrayed her and she shifted her head in the hope that her hair would shield her face from his intense gaze. 

“So did I pass the test?”

“Hm?”

“You know,” he grinned, “your friend’s potential coffee friend test. Have I graduated from potential friend status?” 

Flipping her hair back over her shoulder, she shot him a teasing smirk and leaned back into her seat, taking a long sip of her coffee but not breaking eye contact with him over the rim of her cup. “Now, now, don’t get ahead of yourself, Bellamy. I never said I didn’t have my own tests.” That drew a laugh from him and her traitorous stomach flipped at the sound. She tightened her hands around the mug. 

A beat of silence passed between them as they shared matching smiles from across the table. Then, Bellamy spoke again, “Do I get to know your last name too? Or is that information classified until I pass the test?”

Flashing him a conspiratorial smile, Clarke set her coffee back down and shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve heard mysterious girls are more interesting.”

“Trust me, I’m plenty interested already, Princess.” His voice was low, deep, and he leaned forward, planting his elbows onto his knees. She bit her lip hard in an effort to hide the dopey smile that threatened to break out across her face.

Swallowing, Clarke met his dark stare for as long as she could before the tension became too much. Clearing her throat, she changed the subject, “What were you working on before I came over here? You looked really focused.”

Suddenly, Bellamy beamed, it was a bright and excited expression, oozing pure joy from every corner. She had never wanted to draw him more than in that moment. 

“I was just drawing up a lesson plan. I just got a job as a professor of classical history at Ark U.” 

“Really? That’s awesome. I used to go there, you know.”

“My little sister did too. Majored in exercise sciences to become a physiotherapist. Her name’s Octavia, maybe you know her?” The way his voice softened when he spoke his sister’s name told her just how much he loved Octavia. 

Clarke shook her head. “Doesn’t really ring a bell but it is pretty unlikely our paths would have crossed considering I majored in art.” A beat, then she chuckled quietly. Bellamy raised a brow in question and she grinned. “Nothing. Just- You’re a classics teacher with a sister named after the sister of a Roman emperor.”

A sheepish smile played about his lips. “It’s worse actually ‘cuz, you see, I named her.” Clarke stared at him in disbelief for a moment before she broke out into laughter. 

“For what it’s worth,” she said after she’d calmed down a bit, “I bet you’ll be a great teacher. Professors who love what they teach are always the best.”

Adorably, he ducked his head but not before she caught the pale blush that dusted his freckled cheeks. “Thank you, Clarke.” His voice was soft but he cleared his throat and it went back to normal. “So what do you do?”

“God, I’m never going to get used to saying it but I’m an artist. Although, I’m kind of a pseudo art teacher since I teach art at the kid’s rec center every Saturday from 1 to 4. But I volunteer so it’s not really a job per se.”

“So you're a philanthropic art teacher by day, talented artist by night?” He joked and she chuckled.

“Yeah, something like that.” Then, she glanced at her bag and bit her lip. “Speaking of art, I have to work on this commission that I’ve been procrastinating for a while.” Her tone was apologetic but he waved her off.

“I have to finish this lesson plan anyway and it’ll be nice to have some company even if it is silent,” he stated, already pulling the laptop back onto his lap. Clarke watched him for a second longer before she pulled out her sketchpad.

As she searched for the page with Vera Kane’s nearly-complete commission sketch, she flipped past the many pages littered with unfinished sketches of the man sitting right across from her. Even though his focus had returned completely to his screen, she cradled the book closer to her chest, anxious that he would see her renditions of his face and take it the wrong way. Although, she wasn’t sure there was really a right way to take seeing someone’s obsessive sketches of you. Finally, she located the drawing she had to work on and pushed the worries to the back of her mind as she lost herself in her art.

She finished the piece faster than she had anticipated and looked up to see Bellamy still entranced by his own work. After a moment’s hesitation, she flipped to a clean page and bit her lip. Yes, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to draw  _ another  _ drawing of him, not when the others would already be too difficult to explain, but he was right there and she knew she could get it right with him sitting right across from her. It wasn’t creepy, it was a matter of pride. Besides, it would be the last time. She just had to get it right and she would. 

Sinking a little into her seat, she began drawing the first lines of his face, glancing up every few seconds to catch a glimpse of his face. Soon, the high curve of his cheekbones began to appear, followed by the slope of his nose and the strokes of his lips. Next, she worked on his eyes until his kind gaze stared up at her from the page and she moved on to the dark arch of his brows. His hair was a bit of a struggle but she eventually managed to perfect the endearingly messy curls with a few lingering glances at the man himself. 

It was when she was adding the finishing touch of his freckles that his voice startled her, “Are you drawing me?” 

Eyes widening, Clarke snapped her gaze up to stare at him. His eyes hadn’t even shifted from the screen of his laptop but the smirk on his face was unmistakable. “What?”

“You keep staring at me then going back to drawing. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. You’re not subtle, Clarke.” Blushing, she ducked her head and muttered an apology. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind.” He finally looked up at her, his grin teasing. “But I do insist on seeing what I just unwittingly modeled for.”

That was fair, she at least owed him that. Reluctantly, she handed over her sketch and watched with bated breath for his reaction. At first, he was silent, completely still but for his eyes that roamed over every inch of the page once, twice, three times. Then, his mouth popped open into a perfect ‘o’ of wonder and the anxiety churning within her stomach eased just a little. The silence lasted for another minute, during which Bellamy traced the lines of his own face with a finger that hovered a hair's width above the paper. 

“Clarke,” he finally said, his voice soft, “this is amazing. You’re really talented.” She beamed, thanking him for the compliment quietly but his eyes were still fixed on the sketchpad. “I bet this book is filled with amazing drawings.”

“Wait, don’t-” But before she could stop him he was flicking through the pages, definitely seeing a good number of her previous attempts at drawing him in between her other sketches. She felt the blood drain out of her face when he looked up at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. “It’s not- ok, I know it looks bad, like I have a creepy obsession with you or something but it’s not that.” She paused, trying to find the right words to explain without sounding like a lunatic. “Ok, so you showed up at the coffee shop for the first time a few weeks ago and I was procrastinating on sketches I had to get done like I always do. Sometimes when I can’t focus on the drawing I’m supposed to do I try to draw people in the coffee shop who catch my eye - shut up, I don’t mean it like that, you ass - to get in the zone and, well, you caught my eye. The only problem was that you were here for maybe two minutes? Usually, I can draw someone just fine even when seeing them so little but there’s something about your dumb face that’s so hard to draw that I just couldn't get it quite right. It became a challenge, like I was trying to prove to myself I could draw you so every time you came in I would try. Today is the first time I managed to get it right.” 

As her words hung between them, Clarke stared determinedly at the ground, unable to risk a look at his face as the silence weighed down on her. Finally, it was broken by Bellamy’s laughter. Shocked, she snapped her gaze up to find him with his head thrown back and his eyes bright as he laughed. 

“I’m sorry,” he said once he’d managed to calm down. Why he’d laughed, Clarke couldn't figure out. “It’s just that I can’t believe the stalker I have is a girl so stubborn she created an accidental shrine.” 

“I’m not stalking you and it is not a shrine!” She protested, huffing. 

“Sure, Princess,” he drawled, sarcasm lacing every syllable.

“It isn’t!” But even as she said it, Clarke couldn't hold back the grin that curled her lips. 

* * *

Bellamy tripped over the bag he’d left lying in the middle of his bedroom and went flying, sprawling across his carpeted floor. He groaned loudly, allowing himself a moment to wallow in annoyance before he remembered why he had been in such a hurry that he’d tripped in the first place. A couple of hours ago, Octavia had called and asked him if he would like to come with her as she shopped for baby stuff since he would be missing their bi-weekly family dinner to attend the celebratory dinner Kane had insisted on having in honour of his getting the job. A dinner he was going to be late for because he’d forgotten to check the time while following around his heavily pregnant little sister as she waddled from store to store. 

Shirt still covering his face, Bellamy reached blindly for the pair of black slacks he’d laid out and pulled them on, rushing out of his bedroom while pulling the red polo down from over his features. He barely remembered to grab his wallet and keys before he left. Personally, he wasn’t one for fancy restaurants, even for special occasions, much preferring a quiet family dinner or a night out with his friends at a bar or diner, but Kane had already made the reservation and he didn’t want to risk offending his friend and mentor. He was already at risk of doing that by being almost twenty minutes late when he finally pulled up at the restaurant. 

Before stepping into the establishment, he took a moment to smooth any wrinkles from his shirt and gave a futile attempt at brushing back his hair with his fingers. With a resigned sigh, he stepped through the grand doors and was immediately greeted by the hostess. She was a short woman, with dirty blonde hair that was pulled back into a sleek, immaculate bun, and dressed in the uniform of the restaurant. 

“Good evening, sir, do you have a reservation?” Her voice was cheery and welcoming, accompanied by the typical smile of service workers. 

Despite his anxiety, Bellamy managed to flash the woman a polite smile and said, “A friend of mine, Marcus Kane, is already here and I’m supposed to join him.”

“Of course,” the woman - Julie - her nametag read replied, “just a moment please.” As she tapped swiftly against the screen by the counter he shifted back and forth onto his heels nervously, something that didn’t go unnoticed by the other customers waiting in line behind him, judging by the irritated looks one of the women flashed him. “If you’ll follow me, sir, I will take you to where Mr. Kane is seated.” 

Thanking her, Bellamy nodded and followed the hostess as she maneuvered between dozens of tables until he finally spotted Marcus Kane and seated around a table with two women. The woman seated right next to Kane was older, her brown hair shot through with strands of grey and pulled back into a braid. She was staring at the woman across from her, presumably her daughter and Kane’s step-daughter, with stern eyes and her mouth was pressed into a thin, disapproving line. With her back to him, all Bellamy could see of the younger woman was that she had short wavy blonde hair with a couple of the tips dyed red. Clearly whatever interaction the mother and daughter were having was not a pleasant one and he dreaded approaching and being stuck in the middle of family drama he certainly had no interest in being a part in. Unfortunately, he didn’t have much of a choice, not if he didn’t want to be a rude and horrible friend to Kane. Besides, his mentor had just spotted him and waved him over eagerly, a joyful expression on his face. He greeted him with a swift hug, patting him on the back and pulling back to assess his appearance.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” Bellamy apologized. “I got caught up in helping my sister with something and lost track of time.”

Kane waved off his words. “Nothing to worry about, Bellamy, it is your day, after all. Now,” he clapped his hands together and turned to grin brightly at his wife and step-daughter, “I believe introductions are in order. Bellamy, you’ve already met my wife, Abigail and this is her daughter-”

“Clarke?” Bellamy recognized the younger woman, now looking at her face. Since he’d last seen her just yesterday she’d cut and dyed her hair and he had to admit it looked good, distractingly so. However, her appearance was only part of the reason he stood there, awkwardly gaping at her for a moment too long. The other part was the absolute shock that the beautiful artist from the coffee shop was Marcus Kane’s step-daughter. Although thinking back on it now it made sense. After all, Kane had told him how amazing of an artist his step-daughter was. Well, it wasn’t that obvious but hindsight is twenty-twenty and it seemed obvious to him now. 

“You two know each other?” Kane asked, his voice snapping Bellamy from his thoughts.

Before he could answer, Clarke - who had been gaping back at him - cleared her throat and explained, “Yeah. Bellamy and I go to the same coffee shop and met a couple of weeks ago.” She flashed him a soft smile. “It’s nice to see you again. Although this is probably the last place I expected to run into you and under the least likely of circumstances at that.” She laughed quietly.

He grinned. “Likewise, Princess.” As soon as the nickname slipped out, he bit his tongue, embarrassment colouring his ears red at having used what sounded like (and basically was) a pet name in front of her parents. But Clarke didn’t seem to notice or mind if she did and Kane only raised his brows as he glanced between the pair but didn’t comment. Abby, however, was a different story. 

Impossibly, her lips seemed to flatten and her gaze hardened even more but she merely waved a hand at the menus placed neatly on the table. “Now that introductions are out of the way, it’s about time we ordered. We’ve been here for so long already and I must say I am famished. I didn’t expect dinner to be so delayed.” The thinly veiled criticism at his tardiness didn’t go unnoticed. By neither him nor Clarke, as both their shoulders tensed imperceptibly at her mother’s words. The blonde shot him an apologetic glance before turning the force of her steely blue glare on her mother. Swallowing, Bellamy took the seat next to her.

“Of course,” Kane said, trying to alleviate the tension that had fallen over the table. Not five minutes in and the entire ordeal was already shaping up to be a disaster. “Clarke, I know you’ve been trying to avoid carbs lately but-”

“I’m not,” Clarke cut him off, but her sharp glare was aimed at her mother once again. 

Even though it wasn’t directed at him, he still felt the urge to flinch, though Abigail didn’t seem even a tiny bit fazed by her daughter, simply giving the blonde a quick once over before calmly saying, “Clarke, honey, we discussed this. You should be watching your...diet and carbs are certainly something you should be avoiding.” Something in the older woman’s tone and the way her motherly advice seemed to just belittle her daughter had Bellamy clenching his fork tightly in his hand. The urge to snap at Clarke’s mother in her defense was strong but he pushed it down, instead focusing his eyes down on the menu. 

A beat of tense silence passed between the two women and Kane, once again, attempted to play peacemaker, “Abby, surely one night won’t do much harm. The penne arrabbiata here truly is to die for and I know that’s Clarke’s favourite pasta dish.” 

Clarke held her mother’s eyes for a moment longer before she turned to face her step-father and her entire expression seemed to transform in the blink of an eye. “It is.” She smiled at Kane but there was a tightness clinging to the corners of her lips that made Bellamy frown. “Thank you for suggesting it, Marcus.” A quick glance at her mother. “I’ll definitely be having that then.” She closed the menu in her hands decidedly and pressed it firmly back down onto the table in a manner that had him suppressing a smile. 

A minute later, in which Bellamy had just had enough time to scan through the menu, a waiter appeared and took their order. They all told him what they would like then Kane requested a grossly expensive bottle of wine be brought as well in honour of the celebration, despite Bellamy’s vehement protests against it. 

Once the waiter left with a nod, Abby claimed that she had to respond to an important email, Kane excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Clarke leaned in to whisper amusedly, “It’s futile to resist, Bellamy. Marcus won’t relent until he’s sure that your achievements have been properly celebrated. You should have seen him when I first opened my gallery, I was drowning in expensive wines for weeks.” Her tone was lighthearted, joking but softened as she continued. “He’s just proud of you, you know. Even though I haven’t seen him in a while he still managed to talk my ear off about “this impressive young man” that I just had to meet.” She grinned as he ducked his head and rubbed the back of his warm neck awkwardly. 

“I know. He’s helped me out so much that it seems too much sometimes, you know?” Clarke nodded. “He talked about you to me a lot too. Told me his step-daughter was this brilliant artist and that he was sure we would get along.” His voice lowered, turning conspiratorial along with his grin. “I’m pretty sure he wants to set us up.”

That drew a loud laugh from her and he couldn't look away from her as she threw her head back and closed her eyes. “That sounds like something he would do. And it would explain the godawful awkward conversation I had with him over the phone a couple of days ago when he asked me if I had been seeing someone since my ex-girlfriend, Lexa.”

“Are you?” He blurted out the words before he could think better of it. 

Clarke raised her brows questioningly. “Am I what?”

“Seeing someone?” God, why was he so nervous? He never got this nervous, even when he was flirting with a gorgeous girl. Although, he had to admit, at the risk of sounding cheesy, that Clarke just might be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.

Smiling, she bit her lip and paused, contemplating for a moment in which his palms became slick with sweat. “Why? You got someone in mind to set me up with too, Blake?” She was teasing him now and, he was pretty sure, flirting back.

He grinned. “Oh, yeah. My sister, Octavia. I think you’ll like her a lot. You know, if married, seven-month-pregnant, straight girl is your type.” Clarke snorted. 

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work out too well. Anyone else?” She leaned in a bit closer, their shoulders now brushing against each other, and Bellamy’s heart rate sped up. 

“Well, there is this other guy I know who’s interested…”

“Oh? Tell me about him.” 

“He’s a Blake too so rest assured you still have a shot in the family even though the Octavia thing fell through.” She let out a huff of laughter. “Devastatingly handsome, of course.” That earned him a roll of her eyes and a light smack against his bicep. He bit his lip to keep from laughing. “And he would very much like to take you out on a date next Friday.” 

“Well,” Clarke said, tapping her fingers against the table, her nails clicking quietly against the wooden surface, “you can tell this  _ friend  _ that I would very much like that.” 

In that moment, Bellamy was sure he looked ridiculous, with a bright gleam in his eyes as he smiled so widely down at her that his cheeks ached. “Yeah?”

Clarke’s smile was gentle and lovely as her blue eyes bored into his. “Yeah.” 

The moment was interrupted when Kane returned and pulled him into a conversation about the syllabus of his course but Bellamy only managed to partially focus because Clarke’s hand slipped into his and her fingers stayed threaded through his own until their food came and they had to let go. 

It wasn’t until the entire dinner was over and he was back home that he realized she’d managed to slip a folded piece of paper into his pocket with her number scrawled onto it alongside a couple of neat lines of what had to be her handwriting.

> _ Can’t wait til Friday ;) Text me _

Bellamy grinned and bit his lip, thumbs already plugging her number into his phone and starting up a conversation with her before he could think better of it. He was definitely coming across as too eager but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.

_ So does this mean I’ve passed your tests? _

It didn’t take long for the little grey ticks to turn blue.

_ with flying colours _


End file.
